Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Egg-Chasing Time

The flipside of missing proper football is that I'm not subjected to any egg-chasing guff whatsoever on this side of the pond. Apparently Ireland are engaging in a bit of trench warfare with Her Majesty's Smaller, Wales-esque, Former Prison on Saturday. This means the Irish public (or at least everyone in Dublin 4, Douglas and the tenements and slums of Limerick - aka the 'real' rugby fans) will be lapping up the mockery that is Ireland's Call and watching a bunch of wannabe Riverdancers, who are about as polynesian as Michael Flatley, doing their little tribal war dance.

(I prefer the cheerleaders meself). It'd be class to relive *that* scene from Indian Jones on the whole lot of them while they're busy slapping their arses and licking their chins.

Lenny loves the old egg-chasing, as it happens, being a big fan of Tag-Rugby (aka Rugby League for girls) and even joined some junior club at one stage earlier this year - deciding to play full contact rugby for the first time in his life at the age of 30.

Of course he was stuck out on the wing, where you never see the ball when playing at that brutal a level. This wasn't good enough for him, of course, so he was eventually chucked off the team for repeatedly 'coming in from the side' trying to join in the ruck/maul/pile-of-closet-cases-rolling-in-the-muck.

He, like the rest of them, wasn't able to fully satisfy his thirst for aggression without joining in the all-male pile up. Makes you grit your teeth and go 'Grrrrr...' just thinking about it.

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